


The Future Has Passed

by Kittyknowsthings



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittyknowsthings/pseuds/Kittyknowsthings
Summary: Aziraphale is known to follow the rules, so he would hardly defy Crowley's instructions regarding the warded door in his apartment. Right?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 36
Collections: Name That Author Round Five: After Dark Redux





	The Future Has Passed

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Name That Author: After Dark on the Go-Events server, expanded and cleaned up since then. 
> 
> Prompt was "There is a door that should never be open. It's open."

Once upon a time, there was a demon who found himself in need of a plant sitter.

As the demon, who called himself Crowley, could hardly refuse infernal assignments that took him abroad with a "Sorry, your disgrace, I can't, I have to water my plants" – even less so since he, a demon of considerable power, did not, technically, _have to_ keep to any kind of watering schedule, but simply hated using direct miracles on said plants – he asked the one being on the planet he trusted to enter his lair, a flat in Mayfair, and leave it again without prying – his beloved nemesis, an angel named Aziraphale.

As Aziraphale already had access to the ward protecting the flat, he merely left specific instructions regarding room temperature, watering, nitrogen levels, and proper discipline and knew that they would be followed to the letter, if not always in spirit – the recklessly kind Angel could be relied upon to trust his gardening expertise, but also to find a loophole to coddle his plants, which

Crowley figured was a necessary Good under the circumstances.

"Do not try to enter the warded room off the kitchen," he hoped, was sufficiently unambiguous. 

When he returned from his assignment, he indeed found his plants well taken care-off, if a little too comfortable, and the wards undisturbed.

He rectified the plants' excessive ease with a proper menacing, and that, the demon thought, was that.

A simple extension to their existing arrangement – whenever Crowley needed to leave London for any length of time, the Angel would make sure his plants were not neglected.

"Did you try to enter the warded room?" He always asked over the dinner of unspoken thanks.

"Of course not!" Aziraphale responded indignantly, and would be a little huffy until distracted, often by the arrival of the next course. Crowley timed the question accordingly.

So after the Apocalypse had knocked and been turned away, and their respective executions averted, Crowley did not think much of leaving the Angel alone in what was now _their_ bed to get some pastries from the bakery across the street. 

He should have known better.

  
A trickle of unease began to drip into his mind when he entered the flat upon his return, surged into a stream of anxiety as he did not find the Angel in the office, the bed room, nor the plant room, and finally crested in a wave abject terror when he stepped into the kitchen.  
  
The door to the warded room stood open. 

Crowley himself had not known where it led – the wards obscured even his own memories from himself once the door closed behind him, leaving the demon only with a vague sense of shame and a strong urge to maintain the secrecy, and firmly avoided thinking about what it might hide – if he felt it was not safe to remember, he trusted his own judgement.

He was still outside the ward's range, so it might as well have been the first time he laid eyes on the room itself, but what he could see of its interior was familiar enough to send an icy shudder down his serpentine spine.

Crowley crossed the ward line with determined strides and heat rose to his face as he saw Aziraphale surrounded by undeniable evidence of his failures as a demon.

His upper lip pulled back to bare his fangs in a snarl.

"I told you, explicitly, not to try to enter this room!" He thundered.

"And I did not try, Dearest," Aziraphale said primly. "I succeeded."

Crowley was left with no choice but to surge toward the Angel and attempt to kiss the self-satisfied smirk off his face as the last unicorn looked on, surrounded by a lush and vibrant garden filled with plants who had rebelled and been rewarded for it.

"It's just because unicorn dung makes great fertilizer," the demon mumbled after the kiss.

"Of course, dearest," the Angel said fondly.

The unicorn snorted.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Title, of course, from "The Last Unicorn" by America.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Good Omens!Earth!


End file.
